


The Greatest Shame

by TheRangress



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Gen, Post-Oathbringer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:45:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRangress/pseuds/TheRangress
Summary: He can't heal her legs, but that doesn't mean he can't help her.





	The Greatest Shame

“I’m so sorry,” said Renarin Kholin.

Rysn inhaled sharply. It was bad enough to know she was stuck for eternity in this chair— she would _not_ have a prince crying on her.

“It’s all right, Brightlord,” she said. “I knew when I asked you that most likely…”

“If I were a better Radiant,” he said, pulling away from her, “then you would be standing here right now.”

“And if I were a better merchant, then I would be standing _somewhere else_ right now.” Rysn waved her hand. “You have important business to attend to, saving lives. It was selfishness to take you from that.”

“You asked a chance at freedom. Some might call that more precious than life.” He stood, paced the room quickly with his long and highly functional legs, and turned away from her. “Forgive me. I should… I should be trying to reassure you that it is no great shame to be an invalid.”

“And?” She pulled herself up on her elbows.

The prince almost laughed, bowing his head further. “Do you wish the truth?”

“They call you Truthwatcher, don’t they? I expect nothing less.”

He turned back to her. “It is the _greatest_ shame. Not, perhaps, the brokenness itself— it is a thing people learn to live with, just as they do poverty or— well— living on Roshar as a soft, fleshy… flesh… thing.”

“Yes,” Rsyn agreed, “it is _very_ difficult to go around being a soft fleshy flesh thing.”

He flashed a hint of a smile, then returned to solemnness. “It is how we are treated, Bright— er…”

“Rysn. Call me Rysn.”

“Rysn.” The prince nodded. “I spent my life as an invalid, Rysn. Others constantly making decisions for me, treating me as a delicate and mindless creature. As we fleshy things must be protected from a highstorm, so too must I be protected from… Everything. My father cast me aside as worthless and it took me _nineteen years_ to prove to him that I could still carry a blade— and the only reason I was allowed that was to _protect me_ again.

“The invalid is an eternal infant. Our wants and desires are the same curiosities as those of a talking chicken. And always, we are to be grateful that we have not been shut away in a madhouse or killed. We must be grateful to be considered livestock rather than vermin.”

Rysn breathed slowly. She’d heard of Dalinar Kholin’s younger son before, of course. Some called him slow, some a coward.

The man before her was an ocean. His placid façade masked dark, angry depths.

“But you— you are a Knight Radiant,” she said. “Surely they must understand now.”

“No,” he said. “I think I am still nothing more than a curiosity. I don’t know that there is a path to humanity for an invalid, aside from being healed.” He paused, shuffling awkwardly. “I am… halfway healed. No longer so fragile, but not yet a man.”

She took a deep, ragged breath. “How did you survive?”

“By failing all of my suicide attempts.” He looked up at her and forced a smile. “Find other outcasts, Rysn. You may have to tell them who you are, but they will listen.”

“Then I don’t have very far to look.” Rysn smiled. “While you stay in the city, will you visit me? I can tell you stories.” She gestured to the souvenirs on her walls. “And you can spend time without having to worry about Chiri-Chiri— I saw you were quite taken with her.”

He blushed, looking to the pot of Shin grass that held the larkin. “She is a beautiful animal.” Renarin looked to Rysn again. “I am still sorry about your legs.”

“So am I,” she said. She frowned. “Would you help me to my chair?”

He was awkward, but gentle as he lifted her over to the chair.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“It doesn’t much matter when I can’t feel my backside.”

He paused. “I should get back. But… would you care to have tea tomorrow?”

“Come with a small chip of Light for Chiri-Chiri,” she said, smiling at him. “You two can get acquainted.”


End file.
